A Lovely Place
by xBlueMagnoliax
Summary: Daryl never opened the mortuary door that night, and he and Beth discover that, despite the moments of fear and darkness, it is a lovely place to be.
1. Chapter 1

A Lovely Place  
>Chapter 1<p>

* * *

><p>"…Oh…" It was the only sound she could find in that moment.<p>

When Daryl's eyes failed to look away from her own, Beth wondered if they'd be locked in this deep, searching gaze forever. Somehow, she'd be okay with that. She tried to pick apart the emotions she could see swirling inside his intense, blue eyes. The longer he held her gaze, the more she saw a shy sort of confidence in him, in what he was conveying. Her heart fluttered, her pulse quickened and her breath caught in her throat before she could utter another syllable. Where had her words disappeared to? They carried on this entire conversation with just their eyes. Hers were transfixed on his, pupils dilating with acknowledgement and something else — excitement. Even her brain tingled somewhat, a little itch in the back of her skull, as she tried desperately to decipher the meaning behind his stare.

It meant more. She knew that. More than just the fact that she'd changed his mind about good people. If that were all this was, he'd have simply said so. There was nothing to be coy about in such a simple thing. This ran deeper, at least that's how it struck her. His lingering glance seemed, to her, a silent confirmation on his part that she'd read him right. He looked scared, suddenly, as though the fact that she may now know his innermost feelings might somehow bring his entire house of cards tumbling down.

Daryl realized if he didn't do something, he might explode. There was so much anxiety building inside him, more with each fleeting moment. That "oh" had conjured a swarm of butterflies. He could feel himself trembling on the inside, and yet you wouldn't know it to look at him. Every instinct screamed fight or flee, but he couldn't understand why. There was no danger here, just feelings— so strong and strange. Feelings mysteriously awakened and stirred only while in Beth's company. It meant something; he knew it too. It meant something profound, and that scared him. Yet he didn't want to fight it, nor run from her. He cleared his throat and repeated that singular syllable, because it was all he could muster.

"Oh?" he asked.

She swallowed, wetting her throat so she could speak. "I changed your mind?"

He stayed statuesque, frozen in his chair for a moment, his gaze descending back into the nearly-empty jelly jar that he'd once more retrieved from the table. He clutched it like a security blanket and, finally, he shrugged and nodded, almost indiscernibly. "Mmmhmm.." He wanted to tell her that she changed a lot of things, but such a confession tasted strange on the tip of his tongue. He couldn't quite spit it out.

Beth's lips parted as she attempted to find words, a question, a comment. Anything. Nothing came. She wanted to ask him what else was behind that long, telling look. What were all of those unspoken words hiding in his silence? It was like they'd looked straight through each other and found something good inside. Something she wished he would say. But she knew him. She knew better than to press further. He'd been so open with her since the shack, so if he wasn't saying, she knew it was because he wasn't ready to yet. What she felt in that moment had caught her off guard. Perhaps it did the same to him. She fought for something to say, to quell the tension, to make it feel safe for him again.

"It's not nuts," she said.

He looked at her. "What?"

"Us…" she said.

Daryl lifted his head a bit more. He looked curious and nervous and hopeful, trying to understand; his heart somersaulting in his chest.

"Us staying here," she clarified. "You said it might be nuts. I don't think it is," she said with a warm smile.

"You sure?" he asked. It felt like more than one question being asked. Were they really talking about the decision to stay right now, or were they talking about something else? He seemed to be feeling her out just as cautiously. Testing the waters. Trying to figure out where she stood on his wordless confession, these unspoken feelings, this undefined thing between them.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "It's like you said. We can make it work." She set down the pen and closed her journal, as though the matter was settled. They were staying. They were staying together. They'd be safe here. They'd have food. They'd have time to figure out what this is — this elephant in the room that had plunked itself down between them. She knew the answers would come with time, at Daryl's pace. There was no need to rush him. Neither of them were going anywhere, and that was a relief.

"I like it here. I want to stay. I want _**us **_to stay," she said with a smile. "I'm happy here."

He just stared at her for a good, long moment, his eyes taking in all of her angelic features in the candlelight. Their eyes caught again and when she didn't look away, it gave him this sense that they were somehow on the same page. He never expected that. The corner of his mouth slowly drew up into a small side-smile as he gave a single nod. "Me too."


	2. Chapter 2

A Lovely Place  
>Chapter 2<p>

* * *

><p>"Me too," Daryl said before looking back down into the jar of jelly, fishing the spoon out of it and taking another mouthful.<p>

Beth watched him and she smiled, glancing down at her journal, her fingers tugging at the elastic that was wrapped around it. She tipped her head thoughtfully to the left, her eyes lifting to peek over at him. "So… we're stayin'."

He looked up, swallowing and studying her for a moment. He nodded, "Mmhmm."

She pushed the journal aside and turned in her chair a bit more to face him, draping one of her arms on the table as her lips drew back into a playful smile. "Okay, so… what do we do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we're stayin', so… it's kinda like our home now, right?"

His eyes couldn't seem to stop exploring her face in the light. Her left eye, her right eye, her mouth; over and over again. "… I guess."

"So then, we should do somethin'. What should we do?" she asked.

He bit his bottom lip and shook his head, his shoulders rolling up into a shrug. "Whatever you want."

"Well, I don't care what we do. I'm just… I'm happy that we finally have a place to stay, you know?" she said, picking up the pen and fiddling with it.

He watched her hands and then glanced at her as she kept her eyes cast down. "You could play the piano again tonight. Sing some more."

She smiled and looked at him. "You _**really **_don't mind?"

He shook his head.

"We could just talk," she said.

His whole body tensed. Talk about what? About what just happened? About what he just felt? About that 'oh'? "You do a lot of that," he teased.

"Hey, you haven't exactly been the strong, silent type lately," she said, playfully.

Daryl paused. He hadn't really thought much about it, but she was right. He'd probably strung together more sentences in her presence than he could recall. He couldn't help it. Something about Beth made it so easy to talk to her, about most things anyway. "Well… ain't we talkin' right now?" he asked.

"Yeah. Well, then we could play a game," she suggested.

He groaned a little at the thought and Beth laughed.

"Not 'I Never,'" she assured him. "If that's what you're thinkin'."

"I think you should just play somethin'," he said quietly.

She smiled and nodded, "Okay, but only if you pick the song."

"What if you don't know it?"

"I might. I'm full of surprises," she said, sticking her chin out proudly and smiling.

Surprises. She certainly was surprising him a lot lately. He could attest to that, but he kept that to himself. He licked the jelly off the spoon and dropped it onto the table before putting the lid back on the jar. "Alright, then…" He got up and pushed the chair in before walking around and pulling Beth's chair back with her still on it. "Let's go," he said.

Beth giggled and held onto the edge of the seat as she was slid backwards. She looked up at him before she moved to stand up. He grabbed his crossbow off the counter and followed Beth out of the kitchen and towards the parlor where the piano was, moving at her pace as she babied her ankle.

"Need help?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine," she said as she limped into the room and dropped herself down onto the piano bench. Daryl laid his crossbow on the chair by the entrance and paused by the coffin. He rubbed his fingers together, brushing them over his palms nervously as he looked at her and then grabbed the chair on the end, dragging it over near the piano. He turned it around and sat himself down, practically facing her. He put his feet up on the chair across from him and nodded to her.

She looked at him and felt a faint heat in her cheeks. "So… what do you wanna hear?" she asked.

He put his arms up behind his head as he leaned back. He looked at her thoughtfully, feeling the most content he ever imagined her could in this moment. "Surprise me."

She was quiet for a moment, just caught in this stare with him and then she smiled and looked down at the piano. She glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow, and then nodded and placed her fingers on the keys. She began to play and Daryl studied her much like he did the last time. Marveling at how completely okay he seemed to feel with everything that was happening. Did it scare the hell out of him on some level? Of course. But he liked how it felt and as long as she wasn't pushing him away, he wasn't going to run from it.

Halfway into the song he glanced towards the doorway, unsure if he heard something or not. He tipped his head to one side and then settled in once more. But then it happened again. He sat up, dropping his feet to the floor and he reached over, placing a hand on Beth's arm. She stopped playing and looked at him. His attention was fully on the doorway.

"Daryl?" she asked, studying him as he raised a hand, his index finger raised in a 'hush' or 'wait' motion. She leaned in closer. "What is it?" she whispered.

"I thought I heard somethin'," he said quietly. Then it came clear as a bell. Tin cans rattling outside. He was quickly on his feet and across the room, grabbing his crossbow off the seats. He raised it and slowly turned the corner, aiming it down at the door. He looked back at Beth, who was rising from the piano bench. He held up a hand to let her know to stay back, and then he crept down the corridor into the foyer, coming up to the front door. He could hear the moaning, louder and louder, the closer he got. He peeked through the gaps between the wood and saw rotting teeth and blood-soaked mouths, frosted, bulging eyes and grotesque faces snapping on the other side of the glass. His breathing instantly quickened. He counted maybe a dozen, and that was only what he could see.

Daryl backed up and then turned and hurried back to the parlor. "Beth!" he said in a sharp, raised whisper. "Kill the lights!"

"Why? What's goin' on?" she asked, even as she blew out the candles on the piano and Daryl quickly extinguished those closest to him. It was pitch black in the room and, almost as though the dead outside could hear them in there, the moans amplified in the darkness. Beth pulled out her small flashlight from her back pocket and turned it on so she could find her way to Daryl. The moans were growing louder and she could hear snarling and the walkers began banging on the boarded doors and windows.

Daryl reached for Beth as she got close enough, guiding her further back into the house. As they moved, he turned to keep his crossbow aimed back towards the front foyer. It dawned on him pretty quickly that they were in trouble. He'd said so himself. The only way in or out was through that front door, and it wasn't an option.

"Daryl. What do we do?" Beth asked. "Do we go upstairs?"

"No, not upstairs," he said, turning and touching her arm with his free hand before he gestured to the hallway. "Let's get in one of those back rooms. Go."

A loud bang from the front door startled them and Daryl quickly placed a hand on her back. "Go, go."

Beth went around the stairs and down the hallway, moving into one of the rooms. She shined her light around as she stumbled inside. It was a small room with a large dresser in the corner, a settee along one wall and a small table under a single window.

Daryl threw his crossbow onto the settee and closed the door before forcing the dresser away from the wall. He grunted as he pushed it across the floor, bunching up the area rug beneath it, sliding the dresser in front of the door.

The moonlight was shining in through the slits in the boards nailed over the panes, and Beth watched as shadows moved on the other side. She squinted in the dim light cast only by her flashlight and then jumped when hands slammed against the boarded up window. Daryl turned quickly. "Get your light off the window."

She cast the light down to the floor and backed herself into the corner beside the window, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor, clutching the flashlight in her hands. They were trapped and she knew that if there were too many out there, she could never outrun them with her ankle.

Daryl moved to the window and tried peering out through the gaps in the boards. It looked like two walkers were out there. He could handle them if he needed to. If those walkers at the front door got inside, they could break out this window and escape, no problem. He just wanted to avoid leaping into a herd if they didn't have to.

"How many were out there?" she asked quietly.

"Too many," he said honestly.

"I thought it was safe here," she said.

Daryl looked down at her and then glanced back at where her light was being cast on the wall. It was shaking, which meant… she was shaking. "It _**is **_safe."

"Where'd they come from?" she asked, watching the door with wide eyes, as though she expected the walkers to come banging on it at any moment.

"I don't know." He closed his eyes and sighed. "Maybe they heard the piano." He knew the moment he said it what Beth was thinking. That it was her fault, if that was the case. But it wasn't. He certainly didn't look at it that way. "We'll be okay."

Beth took a tremulous breath and let it out slowly, shaking her head. Then they heard another sound, and it wasn't walkers. It was a shrill screeching that broke even the monotony of moans and growls. "What is _**that**_?"

Daryl tried to peer out the window, beyond the walker hands slapping against the wood. "Sounds like a car," he said, just as confused as her.

"Maybe it's the person who lives here," Beth said.

Daryl shook his head and looked back down at her. "If it is, they're on their own."

"…So are we," she said, her eyes meeting his in the faint light that filled the room, bouncing off white-washed walls. "They won't get in, right?"

"If they do, I'll handle it," he assured her.

They heard glass break somewhere in the house, heard nails creaking as the wooden boards were pushed and pulled by decaying fingers seeking their living flesh just beyond. Daryl grabbed his crossbow and stepped in front of her, then moved to sit beside her on the floor. He put his arm around her and pulled her in against him, propping his crossbow on his knee, aimed at the barricaded door, with his finger on the trigger.

"Remember the night in the trunk?" he asked. She nodded. "Yeah, well, we're safer in here than we were in there, and we made it through that, right?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling a bit. "We did."

In the dim light offered only by a single flashlight, Daryl and Beth's eyes caught with gentle reassurance and something deeper… deeper than even he'd expected to see reflecting back at him. He wasn't sure what it meant, but part of him was hopeful and another part… terrified in the most wonderful of ways. Then the flashlight flickered and the room went black. Nothing but their quickened breathing and the clamoring and moaning of walkers outside to let them know they were still alive.

"I won't let anything happen to you, Beth. Okay?"

She nodded, cuddling in closer to him. She clung to him the entire night. She wasn't usually afraid, not like this — but, then again, neither was he. Yet his heart pounded in his head every moment. Whether that was from the sheer number of walkers he estimated were outside, trying to get in, or because of that moment between him and Beth — that mind-numbing, butterfly-inducing, heart-fluttering moment in the kitchen, which had been left so aptly unaddressed — he wasn't sure. And now she was here, as close as she's ever been to him. So achingly close that he could feel her heartbeat against his ribs, feel her hair on his cheek, and every breath she took felt like it was filling his lungs, too. And she was scared, and she needed him as much as he needed her.

But maybe — _**maybe **_— it was his own fears that were feeding hers. After that moment with her — whatever it had meant — it felt like he saw the dangers around them in a new light. They seemed greater than they had been the day before, if only because he knew if he lost her, now… some part of him would be lost with her. The mere thought of failing her like that made him tremble inside, and maybe she felt that.

Maybe that's why she gripped his shirt with fists so tight that he thought they'd break. Why she pressed her body into his as though she could hide inside of him. He didn't mind. He liked her there. If she was close, if he was holding onto her, then she was safe, and they were together. They'd make it through this night.

"You still with me, Beth?" he whispered, needing to hear her voice, needing to know she was okay.

"I'm here." She nodded her head against his shoulder, her arms moving to hug around his waist more securely. "I'm not gonna leave you, Daryl."

He nodded and pulled her tighter to him and dipped his head down to rest his chin on her head. "Good. 'Cause we're gonna make it out of this. We're gonna make it, Beth."

"I know," she said. "_**I know**_," she echoed in a whisper.

It was going to be a long night, and neither had any intention of sleeping through it. All they could do was sit together in the dark, holding onto hope, clinging to each other. It seemed like as long as they had that, they could make it through anything. Even this.


	3. Chapter 3

A Lovely Place  
>Chapter 3<p>

* * *

><p>Daryl dragged another walker body onto the pile behind the house. He'd have to figure out what to do with them later. Burn them, bury them — for now, they could wait. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. It was cool out this morning, but the early sun was already beating down with some intensity on the horizon. He looked over at the window to the room they'd barricaded themselves into last night, where he'd left Beth dead asleep. He'd put his hand to her mouth this morning, just to be sure she wasn't. She was exhausted; that's all. He couldn't blame her. She didn't even bat an eyelash when he moved the dresser aside from the door.<p>

The planks on the window held firm for them last night. Splattered with blood and dirt and rotten flesh, there was even a fingernail wedged between one plank and the glass pane, but nothing seemed to be able to get through the house's fortifications. Whoever reinforced it did a good job of it. The front door was a bit of a bigger mess, though, some of the glass busted out behind the boards, but the nails held everything in place. Nothing was getting in. He'd sort out a solution to the chill those broken windows cause later.

They'd gotten lucky last night. Normally, he'd have thought it was a bout of bad luck — a peaceful night, a pleasant moment, ruined by a walker horde. A night spent in wide-eyed fear, unsure what would happen next. And yet… he couldn't see it that way. He was alive, she was alive, the sun was up. No, they were lucky.

He stuffed the handkerchief into his back pocket again and picked up his crossbow from where it was leaning against the house. As he came up to the front porch, he turned to look out over the expansive green cemetery plots. Not a stumbling, fumbling walker in sight, now. He felt an unfamiliar sense of contentment ease into his body as it was finally sinking in: they could really do it. They could live here, set down roots, be happy. Together.

Daryl's eyes wandered towards the road, though. There had been a car last night. The sound of tires peeling out was too distinct to miss. He had half a mind to go investigate, but the moment he took one step forward…

"Daryl!"

He turned on a dime, hearing her shouting for him from within the house. His blood ran cold, his heart in his throat. Every step up onto the porch felt like slow motion. He ducked under the cans and barreled into the door, slamming it open. It struck the wall behind it so hard that the wallboard split and the paint cracked and rolled back on itself. "BETH!?"

Behind him, the early daylight flooded the white-walled foyer, stretching up to where Beth stood. Every inch of her awash in the gold and peach light of dawn. He thought he'd collapse in that moment, seeing her standing there at the bottom of the stairs.

There was a panic in her eyes, and something else… tears. Then he watched as relief flooded over her features. She brought a hand up to clutch at the front of her sweater, and she let out an audible, heaving sigh. "I.. I thought—"

"Are you okay?" he asked as he stood there, gripping the doorframe, white-knuckled. His own chest was rising and falling as though he'd just run a marathon. Fear. Fear left him shaken.

"I couldn't find you," she said, her eyes wide and glossy. "You were just gone."

He felt his throat tighten, felt a tingle at the base of his neck that spread into his chest, his arms, his legs. She was worried… for him. Part of him felt oddly happy about that and yet he felt horrible for making her go through it. He opened his mouth, unsure what to say. So he moved inside to go to her, but paused, unwilling to leave the door wide open — having to constantly remember that they were still vulnerable.

As the door clicked shut, he braced his hand against it to keep from falling forwards when Beth collapsed against his back, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist. He dropped his crossbow to the ground and stared through the gap in the wooden planks. She let out a sob and he grimaced. "Beth.."

He pushed off from the door and grabbed her hands, unclasping them so he could free himself from her grip. He turned and she looked up at him, trying so desperately not to show her tears, or how scared she'd been… waking up alone… after everything that happened in the dark. Daryl pulled her right back in and hugged her. He didn't know if this was what she needed. He didn't know if he was doing it right, but he wasn't going to stand here and do nothing. He was going to damn well try.

"We're okay. You're okay," he whispered with a timid and tender sort of gruffness laced in his voice. "Told you we'd make it, right?"

She gripped the back of his vest in her hands as she just absorbed the rare embrace, nodding her head against his chest. She didn't care that he smelled like dirt and sweat and sun-baked leather. She found his scent comforting, because it was familiar, it was his. Eventually she calmed enough and slowly righted herself, bringing a hand around to brush over her cheeks. She sniffled a bit, clearly trying to regain her composure. He just watched her in silence, squinting slightly as he tried to gauge what she was feeling, what she needed from him. He'd give it to her if he could.

"Beth?"

"I'm good. I just… had a moment," she said, shaking it off as best she could. They were safe and the sun was shining, the walkers were gone. She had to let last night go, she knew that. "I'm sorry—"

"Hey. Don't," he said, reaching out and placing a hand on her arm. "You've nothin' to be sorry for. Last night was hell for the both of us. You ain't the only one who… got scared," he said, hoping it didn't sound weird to admit that. Then again, she'd called him out on him being afraid of things before, and she'd been right. She didn't seem to mind that he was flawed, and he was grateful for that.

She managed a smile for him, aware of what he was doing. "How many were there?"

"They were scattered, so… it didn't really matter. Nothin' I couldn't handle," he said, letting his hand fall from her arm. He just stood there, once more locked in a stare with her, one that reminded him of last night. There was this awkwardness he felt, that made him play with the edges of his sleeves, needing to do something to release the nervous tension in his body. Yet, her eyes were warm and inviting to look into. He cleared his throat and looked down, moving to pick up his crossbow off the floor.

"But how many?" she asked again, watching him.

"A dozen or so," he said, shrugging a bit.

"Seemed like more."

"Probably was, last night. You fell asleep, but it started to get kinda quiet by dawn," he said.

"Did you sleep at all?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, I — I wasn't gonna risk it."

"Risk what? Them gettin' in?"

"…" He studied her intently, his eyes flitting nervously away from her eyes and yet unable to settle on any place specific of her body of her face. Every place he looked just made him more nervous. He shook his head again and looked at the crown molding that lined the baseboards of the walls instead. "That somethin' might happen to you," he confessed. "I wasn't gonna let that happen."

Beth smiled and took a breath, but unable to find the right words of her own, he just let it out again quietly. She reached out, taking his free hand in hers. "You should go sleep," she said, giving his arm a gently tug, getting him to look at her. "Seriously. You need to sleep."

"No. What if—"

"Hey. You watched over me all night," she said and then smiled again. "The least I can do is watch over you." She took a step back, holding onto his hand tightly as she avoided losing her balance when stepping on her bad ankle. He braced himself, turning his hand in hers and clasping his fingers around her slender wrist to hold onto her, not wanting her to fall.

"Careful," he urged.

"I'm okay. Come on. I'll even stay with you if you want," she said, sweetly.

"Why would I want that?" he asked.

"Alright… Well, someone's gotta look out for you, right?"

"Naw, you don't have to," he said.

"How about I stay 'cause I want to?" she asked.

His head cocked slightly as he watched her. Then he gently pulled her forwards, towards him, so she wasn't putting her weight back on her bad ankle. She laughed a bit as he let go of her hand and turned her around. That laugh felt like the biggest release of tension and she was as grateful that he could pull it out of her as he was pleased to do so. He placed his crossbow on his back and then moved to scoop her up. "Fine. If you're gonna be a pain about it," he grumbled half-heartedly, moving to carry her up the stairs, "at least stay off your damn ankle…"

Beth smiled and put her arm around his neck as he carried her up, "Yes, Mr. Dixon."

He stopped halfway up and looked at her with a twinge to his eye. "Seriously, stop that."

She just laughed and shook her head. "You're no fun."

"I'm a lot of fun," he scoffed, continuing up the stairs. "Who got you moonshine?"

"Uh, I'm the one who said we should get a drink," she quipped.

"Alright… who burned down a house with you?"

"Who suggested it?" she asked as he paused in the doorway with her.

He looked at her and narrowed his eyes, trying to hide his amusement. "You know what. You can walk the rest of the way," he said, and she laughed as he set her down.

"I don't mind," she said, limping into the room and over to the bed, taking a seat on it.

Daryl stood in the doorway just watching her. He hadn't expected her to mean she'd be on the bed with him when she said she'd stay.

"Somethin' wrong?" she asked curiously.

He took a deep breath and shook his head. "I'm a lot of fun," he said simply.

She smiled and nodded, thoughtfully tipping her head to one side. "You are," she agreed, smiling brighter.

"Oh, now you agree with me?" he asked, moving into the room and setting his crossbow down by her side of the bed, as she had asked him to leave it with her and he was willing to. It was drawn and ready to fire if she needed it.

She watched him move around the bed to the other side, moving pillows around as he dropped down onto the mattress ungracefully, causing Beth's side to crop up enough to make her bounce back a bit. "Yeah, well… truth is, being with you is the most… fun… I remember havin'… ever… since this whole thing started," she admitted with a smile, moving to lay down on her side of the bed, facing him.

He put an arm behind his head and looked at her, clearly taking her in. "That can't be true."

"It is. I mean, I don't know. I'm just…"

"Just what?" he asked.

She smiled and nestled her head into the pillow a bit, looking over at him. "I'm just really happy."

He felt the blush rush through his face, hoping upon hope that it didn't show. "Hey, ain't you supposed to be keepin' watch? You ain't even lookin' at the door."

"Aren't you supposed to be sleepin'? You haven't even closed your eyes…." she noted softly.

"…Too much to look at," he mumbled.

"You're just lookin' at me," she said, bemusedly, then paused as he glanced away and back to her, as though silently saying 'exactly.' She smiled and shook her head, reaching out and putting a hand over his eyes. "Go to sleep."

He took her hand and pushed it back over to her side of the bed. "Fine, just don't shoot yourself with that thing, or me…" he said, before letting his head fall back against the pillow as he draped his arm over his eyes, taking one last peek at her before blocking out the light.

"Yes, Mr. Dixon," she teased softly, garnering a disgruntled grunt from him.

Beth smiled and turned over to face the door, looking down at the crossbow propped against the nightstand beside her. Then she heard his voice breaking the silence.

"Hey."

She rolled onto her back and looked at him, his arm raised enough to expose his eyes. "You ain't goin' nowhere, right?" he asked.

She shook her head, "I'm not gonna leave you, remember?" she asked.

He nodded, covering his eyes again. Clearly satisfied with that answer. Beth sighed and looked up at the ceiling. If she wasn't sure before, she felt more certain now, this was the beginning of something good.


End file.
